


could life ever be sane again?

by twinks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Wisdom Teeth Fic, louis gets his wisdom teeth out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinks/pseuds/twinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the fuck.” He says around all the cotton and gauze in his mouth, and Harry lets out a quiet laugh behind his hand. “Where the fuck are we? I’m going to throw up, what is this—”</p><p>Louis starts feeling around his mouth, gagging a little because of all the gauze. Harry stands up so fast he gets whiplash and prys his hands away, because he’s <i>not</i> about to call for a doctor because there’s bloody gauze on the ground. “No, no, love, don’t touch your mouth,”</p><p>Louis looks up at him with unfocused eyes. “Where are we? Are we on the same planet as before?”</p><p>[Louis gets his wisdom teeth out and Harry is a good boyfriend.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	could life ever be sane again?

**Author's Note:**

> I was half asleep and then this happened. The title is from “Panic” by The Smiths.
> 
> Update: It's October 18, 2014 and I've just now gotten around to make this a little better... I hope it's better.

Louis decides dentists are evil when he comes across a Twitter that contains weird facts. He was perfectly fine, snuggled against Harry with his phone in his hand, but then he comes across fact number thirty seven that makes him tense up.

“Harry, wake up.” A groan comes from Harry’s closed mouth and he wriggles against him, “Harry, please.”

Harry hums, his arm tightening against his waist. “ _Wassit?_ ”

He clears his throat. “Fact number thirty seven on Twitter page Mind Blowing Facts states that the electric chair was invented by a dentist.” He makes a face in the dark, and he imagines himself to look like he’s crossing his eyes while doing a duck face but he probably just looks distorted. “What do you think about that, Styles?”

“Louis, go to bed.” Harry whines, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “What time is it?”

Louis is quiet for a moment, trying to think of all the ways to tell a person that it’s five in the morning and he hasn’t gone to sleep. “I refuse to answer the question.”

Harry shuffles for a moment, and then makes a choking noise. “It’s five in the morning.”

“I’m aware.”

“Have you gone to bed, Louis?” Harry asks, putting his head back down on the pillow. Maybe if Louis just doesn’t answer he can fall back asleep. “Louis?”

Well, he was wrong. “Not exactly?”

There’s a long moment of Harry sighing. “Please go to bed. It’s going to be just fine. We have to get up at nine.”

Louis adds that to the list of “Why Dentists Are Evil And Out To Kill The Human Race” by Louis Tomlinson. (He should write a book one day.)

❋

Louis’ woken up by an alarm clock. He doesn’t remember when he fell asleep but it was probably due to exhaustion and pure, flat out fucking _fear_. The alarm clock blinks 8:20 in red letters and Louis feels like he’s going to throw up on Harry’s hair. “Oh my god.” He yells, his voice echoing in the bedroom. “Fuck my life, Harry. You’re about to drive me to my death.”

Harry sighs into the pillow, “You’re going to be fine, babe. I told you four hundred times last night. Probably close to five hundred, actually.” He sets himself up on his elbows and smiles sleepily. “Go get dressed. You don’t even have to look good. Go put on some sweatpants and a shirt for all they give a shit.”

Louis breathes hard, his face in his hands. “They’re going to numb me, right? Put me to sleep and all that? Yeah, well what if they give me too much drugs and I die?” His heart is beating so fast that it will most likely explode and he probably won’t even care that he dies right now, but then once he’s dead he’s going to miss Harry a bunch so that’s not really a good thing. He tries to slow it down.

“You’re not going to _die_ , Louis.” Harry rubs his eyes, yawning. “Look it up on Google, I bet no one has died from getting their wisdom teeth out. Actually, don’t.” Harry gets up from the bed and stretches. “Tell you what, you stay here and stay warm and I’ll bring you your clothes, alright?”

“Don’t take too long, please.” Louis whines, throwing the blankets over his head. He leaves just a small opening so air can get it, because once he was under the blankets for so long he almost passed out.

Shaking his head, Harry laughs quietly to himself. “Louis, our closet is literally in the same room. As in, I have to walk three steps to get your clothes. I’m not leaving you, I promise.”

❋

The car ride is the worst car ride Louis has ever had.

“Harry, look.” Louis urges, pointing to his knee. “My knee is fucking shaking. This is a sign that you should turn around and get me the fuck out of here.”

Harry stops at a red light, and it takes all of Louis’ self control to not unbuckle his seat belt, open the door, and haul ass back to their house. “Louis, how many times have I told you that you’re going to be okay?”

“Five hundred and six, quite possibly. How many times have you lied, Harry?”

“None.”

Louis laughs, loud and obnoxious. “Actually, my dear, you’ve lied five hundred and six times.”

Harry takes one hand away from the wheel and opens it, towards Louis. “I promise I’m not lying or making anything up. Do you know how many people get their wisdom teeth out everyday? A whole fucking bunch.”

Louis takes his hand quickly, his heart beat returning somewhat back to normal. “I have one final question.” Harry nods and Louis clears his throat. “If dentists aren’t evil why did a dentist invent the electric chair?”

Harry grits his teeth.

❋

  
The waiting room smells of dentist. It’s minty and gross and fucking dentist-y. His leg is bouncing madly, and his hands are jittering in his lap. Fuck the dentist, honestly. “Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Why exactly do wisdom teeth exist? I mean, if they’re just going to fuck up your whole entire mouth and have to get pulled out eventually, what is the point?” Louis says quietly and angrily. “Fuck wisdom teeth, am I right? They don’t fuck about, do they? They just get right to the point—”

The door opens. “Louis Tomlinson, Dr. Goode is ready to see you.” A cheery nurse says, a clipboard in her hands. “Just come back this way.”

Louis’ heart drops. He’s going to die. Harry takes his hand and smiles. “You’re going to be alright, yeah? Just go back there and get it done and afterwards we can go get your medicine and you can have a life supply of pudding right in the fridge.”

He nods, and stands up on shaky legs. “Hopefully my chair isn’t electric. Love you. Hopefully the evil man won’t kill me, but if he does, just know that I would have definitely married you and we could have started a beautiful, beautiful family.”

He walks towards the nurse with shaky legs and a quick heartbeat, looking back at Harry once the door’s almost closed. He’s got a smile that could light up a whole entire town, and maybe, just _maybe_ , he’ll survive the morning and he can get a chance to tell him exactly that.

❋

The chair isn’t electric.

It’s green and squishy and it makes him feel uncomfortable. He lies there, looking at the light of the ceiling and suddenly Dr. Goode walks in, mask over his mouth. Jesus. He feels like he’s the victim in a horror movie. “Hello there, Louis. I’m just going to do some quick things before we get started.” He sits down on the rolling chair and rolls towards him. “Open wide, now, Louis.”

He opens wide. He even makes the ‘ahh’ sound for effect. “Mhm, good, good. Alright, so, I wasn’t given exact directions for your anesthetic, so. Do you want to be asleep for this?”

“Very, very much asleep. Please and thank you, Dr. Goode. Hopefully you’re very _Goode_ at wisdom teeth removal. I made a _joke_ , if you didn’t realize.” Louis laughs nervously and twitches his feet.

“Jokester, you are. I’m going to prick this into your vein, and after that you should be lights out.” Dr. Goode explains, a needle in his hand. Louis is about to have a panic attack but he thinks of Harry making him homemade Jello later on and relaxes. “One, two…” There’s a prick in his arm and he fights back yelling or punching him in the face and relaxes again, looking up at the ceiling.

“Woah, holy shit.” Louis gasps, looking around. His vision is getting a little dark and he feels really fucking tired, like he hasn’t gone to bed in a really long time. He feels really fucking cold, too, for some reason, and he really wants Harry’s red fuzzy blanket. “I changed my mind I don’t want to do this anymore. Hello? Dr. Goode? You’re not listening,” He trails off, his words jumbling into a pile of nonsense.

❋

Harry feels bad. He never thought Louis would look so… dead, is the thing. He’s laying on the mint green dentist chair with a swollen face and a Spiderman bandaid on where Harry is guessing they pricked him with a needle.

He wants to pick him up bridal style and escape, so that Louis won’t have a proper freak out once he wakes up. If Louis was insane before the procedure, there’s not really telling how he’s going to be when he’s awake.

A nurse pops in, the same one who called him from the waiting room, with a blanket and a bag. “Here’s a blanket, most people who wake up from this procedure are very cold, so you might want to just cover him up before he wakes up to be sure,” She sets the bag on top of the blanket and hands it over gently, “This bag has everything you’re going to need — Extra gauze for his mouth, some wipes, a tube for the salt water — and the instructions are taped to the front. Whenever he wakes up just call for Dr. Goode, alright?”

Harry nods, standing up and putting the bag on his chair. Once the nurse leaves he spreads the blanket out and makes sure that Louis’ toes are covered, because he _always_ complains that his toes are freezing even though _he’s_ the one choosing not to wear socks. Hm.

He’s sitting back in his chair, reading the (very disgusting) instructions that talk about _gum holes_ when he hears Louis’ bare feet squeak against the chair. Harry looks up so fast his neck pops, and Louis’ staring at him with wide eyes. Harry really shouldn’t want to laugh right now, especially because the nurse made it sound like he’s going to be in a lot of pain, but he looks so _funny_ , is the thing.

“What the fuck.” He says around all the cotton and gauze in his mouth, and Harry lets out a quiet laugh behind his hand. “Where the fuck are we? I’m going to throw up, what is this—”

Louis starts feeling around his mouth, gagging a little because of all the gauze. Harry stands up so fast he gets whiplash and prys his hands away, because he’s _not_ about to call for a doctor because there’s bloody gauze on the ground. “No, no, love, don’t touch your mouth,”

Louis looks up at him with unfocused eyes. “Where are we? Are we on the same planet as before?”

“We’re in the dentist office, love,” He replies calmly, brushing his fringe out of his face. He’s so in love with him, even with the blood on his lips and teeth.

Louis puts his head back down and looks around slowly. He’s blinking really hard, like there’s something in them, and Harry’s about to brush his fingertips over his eyelids until he’s met with wide blue eyes. “Harry, don’t fucking move. There’s a god damn cotton ball on the wall and he looks really angry.”

The gauze in his mouth is making Harry have a really hard time understanding him, but oh well. Louis probably won’t realize. “A rubber ball?” He guesses, his eyes lighting up. “Where’s the rubber ball.”

Louis crosses his arms and shakes his head. “ _No, no, no_. A _cotton_ ball. It’s dancing, doing the macarena. Angrily.” He turns back to the wall and smiles happily. Jesus. Harry doesn’t know whether to record this or help him through this traumatizing time of seeing dancing, angry cotton balls. He settles for rubbing his thumb over the Spiderman bandaid soothingly.

“Hey—”

“Who are you?” Louis asks suddenly, licking his dry lips. “Did the doctor send you?”

Harry’s stomach drops. “Louis—”

“ _Man_ , you are _eyecandy_!” Louis shouts, a bit of dribble spilling from his lips. His hand comes up and wipes it away, staring at it like it’s a foreign object.

  
This is supposed to happen, right? Harry doesn’t really know, but Louis was remembering him just fine a minute ago, so he supposes it’s normal. Harry just smiles and continues to rub at his bandaid, happy that he’s okay.

“Are you a model?” Louis’ eyes are unfocused and glassy, his lips are so dry it hurts _Harry_ just looking at them, and oh. There’s blood on his chin. Harry makes a sweater paw and wipes it off, smiling down at him fondly.

“No, I’m not.”

“Who _are_ you?” Louis looks so astonished, like he’s just discovered a new planet bearing life. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Harry. I’m your boyfriend.”

Louis’ eyes widen so comically large that Harry’s a little concerned that they might fall out or something. That couldn’t possibly happen, but you know. It could. “You’re _my_ boyfriend? Holy fuck. Holy _shit_.”

Dr. Goode’s footsteps fill the room suddenly, and he smiles. “Glad you’ve woken up, Louis. How do you feel?”

“He’s my _boyfriend_. Can you fucking believe that? Oh my _god_.”

Dr. Goode laughs, taking down his mask. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling alright. Has the nurse already given you the proper instructions?”

Harry manages a, “Yeah,” through his gigantic smile.

“They’re pretty easy to follow, but I’m just going to go over a few things. No solid foods until he can open his mouth all the way without pain, wear the gauze until the blood has completely stopped, or else it’ll have trouble healing. Twice a day -- there should be a tube in the bag -- you need to fill it with salt water and flush his gums out to ensure his healing will be done properly. If there’s any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call our office.” He’s about to step out, but then looks back with a smile. “He’ll be normal in a few hours.”

“Alright, thanks, doc,” Harry looks back at Louis, who’s drawing shapes in the air. “Wanna head out, babe?”

“The cotton ball is telling me that you’re my boyfriend. He says I hit the jackpot, did you know?”

❋

“Harry,” Louis whines, his voice muffled by the gauze. “Harry, please, answer me.”

Harry hums, keeping his eyes on the road. “Yes, Lou?”

He makes an exaggerated choking noise and whines again. “My tongue… it’s blocking my airway.”

Louis hasn’t been this dramatic since he thought he had a weird, rare illness because he googled his symptoms. “You’re being dramatic, Louis, calm down, please.” Harry urges, taking a hand from the wheel and stroking his arm softly.

“‘M not!” Louis yells, holding his head. “Am I spitting? I can’t feel my lips.”

Harry giggles and looks at Louis quickly before looking back to the road. “Just a little, babe.” He wipes the gross mixture of spit and blood from the corner of his mouth and Louis smiles happily.

“You’re so nice to me. I don’t believe it. You’re too good for me, why don’t you just stop it for a while and take care of yourself? I love you. When we get home can we please watch the Teletubbies? Or maybe Dora? I want to help her find her destination and drink chocolate milk from the jug.” Louis blabbers. He suddenly makes a noise and holds his mouth with both of his hands. “It’s sore. They ripped teeth from my face, Prince Harry. Can we order Chinese when we get home?”

Turning onto their street, Harry shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “No, babe. You heard Dr. Goode, no solid foods until you’re back to normal. It’ll hurt your teethies.”

“Teethies? What am I? _One and a half_?” Louis shakes his head, mumbling something about socks. “They’re called teeth, Harry Styles.”

❋

Louis wakes up (again) at six in the evening with a pounding headache and a sore mouth. He feels like his day has been sucked out of time because, honestly, the last thing he remembers is being stabbed in the arm by a dickhead dentist who didn’t even laugh at his classic joke. He groans, loudly, and Harry comes running in. “I’m alive.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Harry smiles, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pushing away his fringe. “You feeling okay?”

“Well, apart from the horrible headache and the fact that I had four teeth ripped from my face, I’m feeling pretty good. Although my mouth tastes of blood and gross breath.”

Harry nods towards the restroom. “He said to rinse your mouth out with salt water a couple times a day so they’ll heal right. Why don’t you get in there and I’ll be right there with your salt water, yeah? And after we can eat pudding and watch movies. Sound good?”

Louis nods, getting up slowly. “Did I say anything embarrassing?”

Harry bites his lip. Louis hates himself. He was probably just like one of those wisdom teeth videos on YouTube. Hopefully he wasn’t that bad, though. “Well, you forgot who I was. You asked me if I was a model, and once I told you I was your boyfriend you had a proper freak out and was yelling and cursed about it to Dr. Goode. I didn’t record it though, because I knew you’d punch me in the throat or something.”

“So I was a proper sap? Just romantic? That’s boring. I thought I would be talking about my deepest darkest secrets, I once saw a girl who talked about sucking dick to her mum. What a shame.”

“Well, it was cute. I love you,” Harry says, whipped cream stains on his shirt. “I also made you your favorite jello.”

“Can we kiss?”

“Even though your mouth is completely bloody and probably tastes terrible, I guess we could.” Harry leans down and kisses him softly, gently, careful not to hurt him.

After pulling away, Louis giggles. “You’ve got red on you.”

“As disgusted as I am with your mouth blood on me, the Shaun of The Dead reference was flawless.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter @delicatelouis! Your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


End file.
